The city didn’t sleep, and neither did Julian. He sat in the back of a blacked-out SUV, the rhythmic thrum of the engine matching the dull ache in his chest. Outside, the Las Vegas Strip was a blur of electric pink and gold—a playground he had conquered long ago, only to realize he was trapped in it.
Julian didn't answer immediately. He was thinking about a girl he used to know—the one who tried to "save" him. He remembered the look in her eyes when she realized there was nothing left to reach. He had told her he was heartless, not as a boast, but as a warning. He was a "mister main attraction" who couldn't stand his own company. The Weeknd - Heartless (Lyrics)
He walked through the lobby, past the gamblers and the dreamers, a ghost in a thousand-dollar suit. He was back in his "regime," back to the "middle of the night" where he felt most alive and most dead at the same time. The city didn’t sleep, and neither did Julian
He pulled a vial from his pocket, the "codeine cup" long since replaced by harder, colder habits. He was trying to find that feeling again—the one where the world made sense—but all he found was more "money and the fame." Julian didn't answer immediately
As he entered the penthouse, he saw his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows. For a split second, he looked for the person he used to be. But the light hit the glass, and all he saw was a shadow.
"I'm back to my ways," he whispered to the empty room. He poured a drink, sat on the edge of the unmade bed, and waited for the sun to come up—knowing that when it did, he’d still be in the dark.
The SUV pulled up to the fountain at the Bellagio. He stepped out, the cameras immediately flashing like strobe lights in a nightmare. He put on his designer sunglasses, hiding eyes that hadn't seen a real dream in years.